“Mine,” he says from deep in his chest.
I yank my face out of his hand and turn to Abigail, needing to leave.
“Get her in her gown,” Samuel calls to Abigail as we make our way to the side door of the room.
“Yes, sir.” She looks back to him, giving him the small head bow everyone does.
Every step shoots pain through my core, reminding me of what I just endured. I could smell him all over me. The grip he had on my throat is still there. It makes each breath ache, but Abigail holds my hand the whole way, keeping my stance from faltering when I thought I would have fallen over.
By the time we make it back to the same preparation room, the bath is filled with new water, and a different dress is hanging on the frame of the full-length mirror. The water is clear, with white petals floating on top. It smells of the same soap they have in my bathroom at home. The warm vanilla smell filled the room and my head.
I close my eyes for a second, trying to let the familiar fragrance take me away, but the memories of what just happened flash through my mind regardless of the calming aroma.
Abigail motions to the tub of hot water. “Miss?”
I ignore the motion, walking to the vanity instead.
I wasn’t trying to be rude. She is only there because she has to be. Her expression as she watches me makes it seem as if it is painful just looking at me.
“We have to clean you up, miss,” she says softly, not moving closer.
I don’t resist or fight it. I stand, my shaky hands tugging the messed-up dress from my shoulders. It lands silently in apuddle at my feet. Slowly, I step to the tub, letting my body lower into the steaming, hot water.
Abigail’s attention is somewhere on the bottom half of my figure. When I look down, I see how visible my scars are now. Her eyes look pained, causing me to feel sorry for her having to even see them. A small cry catches in my throat as my sore center hits the water.
Abigail lowers her head at the sound of it. “I’m going to wash you now, okay?”
I don’t reply or give her any indication that I heard her, unable to bring it to myself to say anything. The way my thoughts are swirling in and out makes my head tilt and sway.
A shiver runs through me. My hand lands on the side of the tub to steady myself. In the mirror, my blonde hair is wet, and some strands are stuck to the side of my face. I keep my eyes locked on my hair, and I wince as flashes of Samuel thrusting into me awaken.
“I-I can’t, Abigail.” My voice is low and just as wobbly as my limbs feel. “I can’t—” I begin to cry.
My whole world was flipped over, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how I could fix it. She is ever so gently rubbing my back with a cloth.
“Miss, I am so—” Her hands land on my shoulders, and I flinch away. She removes them, taking a slow breath. “Sorry.” My cries rack through me again. She looks over her shoulder at the door and back at me. “Do you need a moment? I can buy some time for you to take this all in.”
Her voice is still low, and if someone else were here in the room, they wouldn’t be able to hear her words.
I nod to her.
She slowly steps back. “I will be right outside the door if you need anything. Whenever you are ready, miss,” she says gently before closing the door.
My body doesn’t hesitate a moment before collapsing into the water. I cover my mouth as the sobs come over me.
The sound of the window sliding open makes me scream.
I clench my chest, whipping to look behind me. I’m met with familiar amber eyes that look as if they are on fire.
Marcus is frozen in the window, surveying me, and I scramble back slowly to the other side of the bath. My back hits it harder than I intended it to. Water spills over the edge at the rushed force.
“Wha-What are you doing here?”
My whole face is scrunched up in confusion. What the heck is happening right now? I place my hands over my chest to cover my body up, even though I’m fully under the water. There is too much for my brain to process.
His jaw ticks as he keeps looking me over. He doesn’t come any closer through the window. He just stands there. How is he standing like that? A ladder?
I shake my head. Why does that matter?
